Penitence
by Kuroi-cho-tsuki-shiro
Summary: Sentenced to death by her own brother and facing imprisonment at the hands of a friend, can she dare to hope that help will come from allies in another world? A series of shorts based on the story of Bleach from Rukia's point of view. 19
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere, somehow, she lost track of time. It was a strange dreaming existence, caught between two worlds. She withdrew more and more from her conversations with Hanataro, keeping mainly to her bed: a pallet in the corner, which she had shifted a little so that she might see a patch of sky. Her powers were returning, but she still felt thin, translucent almost, and although sleep sometimes brought comforting dreams, it just as often brought nightmares, and the longer she slept the more disorientated she became.

On a morning, which should otherwise have been like a hundred others, she awoke to the sound of her name:

"Rukia!"

The cell door was open. Beyond it, two men stood, She should feel angry, she knew. She should turn and tear into them for having abandoned her here. But all she felt was a violent relief that threatened to overwhelm her as she stood up and stepped forward, out of the cell.

Her brother's expression was, as ever, unreadable. As she watched, Renji's usually cool, carefree features pulled into an expression of open concern. The younger man had expected defiance. Instead, silent as a ghost, she knelt at her brother's feet. If Byakuya was surprised at her humility, he didn't show it, but, at his side, Renji stiffened.

In truth, she wasn't sure why she did it. Perhaps in recognition of the power Byakuya held over her; perhaps out of misguided gratitude at her release. All her hatred of the man had been eclipsed by a sudden desire to go home; at least, to the only home she had ever really known, excluding her years in Rukongai:

"I apologise for my actions. I regret deeply the things that I have done and I will accept, without complaint, whatever punishment you see fit to give me."

He spoke as if he had not heard her:

"Kuchiki Rukia, you have been found guilty of a grevious crime against Soul Society and you are hereby sentenced to death by the Central Fort-six. You will now be escorted to the Shrine of Penitence where you will be held in preparation for your execution. This will be the last time I speak to you."

He stepped back. At his side, Renji's eyes had widened; the young man's mouth worked as he tried to wrestle an objection. So he hadn't known. For some reason, that comforted her. Even though he had brought her here and given her into their hands, he hadn't known.

The room felt suddenly very cold and her body leaden as she forced herself to stand. Byakuya swept past her, the hem of his white _haori_ brushing her hands. She felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. So it surprised her that, when she spoke, steel ran through her words:

"I go, willingly," she told his receding figure. Again, he seemed not to hear, but he raised one hand as a signal to his deputy as he left:

"Renji."

The younger man only stared at him, lips parted as if he had forgotten his lines. He only moved when four guards filed into the room, their figures swathed in white robes, their faces hidden by veils. Each held a red staff and struck the floor with it as they stood to attention before him.

Rukia dallied briefly with the idea of escape, then dismissed it almost as quickly as it had come to her. She stood no chance of fighting her way out and, had she not just promised her brother that she would suffer this graciously? Perhaps that was the only weapon she could wield against him now. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of watching her fall apart. She wouldn't vindicate the disappointment she saw in his eyes every time he looked at her.

"We have orders to escort the prisoner," said one of the men.

"Ah, yes," said Renji. It didn't feel like much of a command, but the four of them fell in around her. She could feel their eyes on her even if she couldn't see their features from behind the veils. She could sense them too, now that she had a fraction of her power back, and they were strong. She would never have had a chance against them. Three of them stood back while the fourth, the one who had spoken, approached her. She could have laughed at their wariness, but instead she remained still and perfectly silent.

The man touched something on the collar she wore about her neck and something in the device clicked into place. He instructed her to turn around and put her hands behind her back and she did. She felt something loop around her wrists: a soft twine that seemed to have come from the back of the collar. It felt as if her wrists were now tied with a loose not, but when she tested it, it tightened rapidly, while the collar itself constricted. Very clever. She forced herself to relax. If she put up any kind of fight, the damned thing would likely choke her until she gave in or lost consciousness.

Now that she was effectively restrained, the other three guards closed in, drawing, from their staffs, three long, red ropes, which they attached at points around the collar. She wouldn't be able to run then, either. And no doubt the whole apparatus had inbuilt limiters to repress a prisoner's _reiatsu. _It seemed to have been designed for someone far more dangerous than her and yet, she reminded herself, the Central Forty-six considered her enough of a threat that they needed to be rid of her. Why, she wondered. Had her actions in the world of the living tipped the balance of souls that much? That had not been her intention. Would they condemn her for her ignorance then? Yes.

The Central Forty-six would not comprehend compassion, rashness or stupidity. Her life had been forfeit the moment she'd decided that one human was a more worthy cause than the great cycle of balance and return that it had been her duty to protect. That should always have been her priority. Not a human boy.

She was a _shinigami. _She had been born with these powers. There had to be a reason for that. There had to be.

She just couldn't see it.

The guard closest to her placed a mantle over her head and brought a veil down across her face. Unlike their veils, this one was entirely opaque. She could see nothing.

"_Fukutaichou," _the guard addressed Renji.

Her friend, if he could still be considered such, said nothing, but she heard him shift and then his footsteps sounded: hollow on the wooden floor. She felt the collar at her neck tighten and realised that she was being pulled forward and would have to follow.

So, you really do intend to see this through, Renji? She didn't voice the thought, but she knew the answer. He, like her, had an unswerving loyalty to the _Gotei _Thirteen. And he was her brother's man now.

They passed through Squad Four's barracks and, thereafter, through the _Sereitei. _And soon, she sensed that they were inside. They began to climb a staircase, which seemed to go on forever. At the top, she as assaulted by a blast of cold, fresh air. A sense of height. Of exposure. It reminded her of being up in the mountains as a child: the kind of breezes that whipped around the peaks. It plucked at the kimono she wore and snatched at the veil across her face, granting her staccato glimpses of her own bare feet on a wooden bridge. And then: "This is the Shrine of Penitence," said the guard who had addressed her before. She could feel polished stone beneath her toes and, though the wind had abated, it was still cold. She had the sense that she was entering a vast and ancient hall. A door closed behind her. The sound echoed from the walls. Someone removed the weil, the ropes and the binding on her wrists. "So-called," the guard continued: "Because the prisoner has no choice but to gaze upon the instrument of their execution." It wasn't a hall. It was a tower. The ceiling was hundreds and hundreds of metres above her head. A staircase, unguarded, ran around the outer wall. It looked as if it would take her days to climb it. And light streamed in through a series of slit, vertical windows, all aligned along one side of the tower. Despite her better judgement, she approached the one directly opposite. "The _Sokyoku," _the guard said.

She could see a cliff, an outcropping of sandstone, rising up out of a sea of trees. On its far edge was a vast construction: two vertical staves linked by a cross-beam some two hundred metres above the ground. "The prisoner repents because they see how they will die," the guard said. There was no emotion in his words. He was required to give her this information: "And they will die when their body is pierced by the halberd."

She had learnt about it at school, but she had never seen it up close and she had never heard of it being used. She had so many questions and yet she stood there in empty silence, staring at the weapon that would kill her. "The walls are made of _seki-seki, _the bloodthirsty stone. It will absorb all _reiatsu, _from outside and from within. We'll leave you now." He stepped away.

As they filed out, she continued to stare at the _Sokyoku. _What would it be like, she wondered, and, if she stared along enough,w ould it begin to make sense?

She sensed that the guards were gone, but the door was still open.

"_Fukutaichou-dono?" _said one of them. There was surprise in his voice.

The next thing she felt was a heavy hand on her shoulder. It gripped her so tightly that she thought it might drive her down to the floor. And then Renji spoke in an urgent whisper, his face so close that his lips brushed her hair:

"Five _ryoka _entered the _Sereitei _today. They broke in. We've been on alert all day. One has orange hair. And they say he carries a sword as long as he is tall."

He let her go. But not before he felt the tremor run through her body and caught a glimpse of the expression she turned towards him to see if it were true. He stepped back. There was no lie in his eyes, but his face wore an expression of curious disappointment: his brows had drawn and his lips curled back, as if he could barely conceal the offence he took from her reaction. Without another word, he turned from her and strode away. And the door closed at last.

It was so quiet. She could hear how rapid her own breathing had become and she laid a hand on her chest to slow it.

Ichigo. Impossible. Yet how extraordinary it was that just a few words could bring about such a change in her. She sat down beside the vertical window, her hand moving from her chest to the loose strands of hair that lay untended over her shoulders. She began to idly wind one around her fingers. If she leant her head back against the wall and strained in such a way, then she could see not only the _Sokyoku, _but also the edge of the compound: the outer walls of the barracks.

It was the kind of thing that Ichigo would do.

She should not hope, she knew. Even if he had survived her brother's attack. Even if he had chosen to come after her. Even if he had found his way here to the edge of another world, he would not be able to reach her. She knew that in her heart, so her hope was a selfish thing. Selfish and cruel. But, for now, it felt so very, very bright that she didn't care if it burned her. She didn't care if it left nothing but ashes so long as she could keep believing that he had come after her.


	2. Chapter 2

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